


When the Sun Falls

by DriftingGlass



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adventure, Aged-Up Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Alternate Universe, Childhood, Coming of Age, Eventual Aged Up Characters, Fantasy Style Setting, Fluff & Angst, Forbidden Love, Gon from the Sun Kingdom, Gonkillu - Freeform, Killua from the Moon Kingdom, Killugon - Freeform, Kind of Like a Fairy Tale, M/M, Sun and Moon Parallels, Young Love, friendship to romance, sun and moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 21:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftingGlass/pseuds/DriftingGlass
Summary: In this universe, the Sun and Moon have been parallel to one another for centuries, split apart by the enchanted Wall that protects and guards both sides from crossing.Gon, ambitious and free-spirited, has never believed anything could be brighter and more beautiful than the Sun.And then, he meets Killua.





	When the Sun Falls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DecemberCamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecemberCamie/gifts).



> SURPRISE, DecemberCamie! I really hope you enjoy this work. :) 
> 
> This idea randomly came to me a few days ago after thinking about the Eclipse that's happening quite soon, so... hopefully this long "short story" isn't all that awful. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I'm not too sure of how this turned out, but I like the concept behind it, so... eh. Maybe it's better than I think it is, but it was hard condensing this to just one story. Eh. My short-story skills are rusty. :P
> 
> Thanks ahead of time for clicking and reading! Hope you enjoy and don't be afraid to leave a comment with just about anything. Would be curious to see what people think.

The little bird’s feathers flutter under his touch.

Gon’s smile is wide, crinkling the corners of his mouth as he tenderly applies the ointment to the patch of raw skin on the bird’s belly. With his other hand, he slowly brushes away loose feathers and down, the layers gathering in fluffy balls along his windowsill. His brow furrows, tongue sticking out, his eyes never leaving the scarlet bird’s frazzled, fiery wings and pearly white spots.

“Gon! Are you still in your room? I need you to come help me in the garden!”

“In a minute, Aunt Mito!” Gon calls, hardly drawing his attention away from the bird. He leans down, pressing his roughened palms to his thighs, squinting ever so slightly at the animal as it turns its head towards him and mimics his bewildered expression. He bites his cheek to hold back another grin. “You look like you’ll be ready to fly away soon.”

The bird chirps, a sound that echoes off the red sandstone walls of his bedroom and careens into the tender, crisp air outside his humble home.

He smiles and leans further into the windowsill, running his fingers through his wild dark hair and staring up into the endless sea of blue and crisscrossing white clouds.

He drinks in the salty breeze wafting from the beaches, the clustered noise of townspeople below exchanging coin for seasonal fruits and vegetables while the Sun remains encircling above them, ticking by in gentle currents.

When he was even younger than his current twelve spans, Gon would watch the Sun dance through the bluest skies, the rays shifting and turning like palpable flames over waves of untouchable blue sand. He would ask his aunt about the stories behind the Sun’s radiance, how something so large and yet, so distant, could possibly sustain life along their island.

“Gon, honey?”

Gon jumps, squeaking as the bird breaks into a frenzy. Instantly, the tiny creature flutters its wings and nearly falls off the windowsill, just as Gon extends his hand to cup the bird in his hands. He winces as it pecks into his skin even as he draws it towards his chest. He bites his lip and turns, assessing the creased frown in his aunt’s forehead.

“Sorry, Aunt Mito. I just…” He shrugs. “I wanted to be sure that she was okay.”

Mito blinks. Her large honey-brown eyes are bruised purple from lack of sleep, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows in favor of the one large basket resting at her left hip. Dirt has already smudged her skirt, along with the familiar crimson dust that sweeps the streets of the Sun Kingdom’s districts, even this far to the shore of beaches with sand the color of washed marble.

“Still tending to Runa, I see.”

She tilts her head and bends down closer to his height, her smile soft as she reaches out. Gon hesitates, yet slowly unfurls his fingers and allows the tiny bird’s head to poke out between his enclosed palms. He stifles a grin, tempted to let Runa scamper along his windowsill or flutter her wings on top of his desk—next to the stacks of scrolls and unopened books his father keeps sending him as his only way of communication—but knows that it could be potentially dangerous.

“Do you think,” Gon whispers, his eyes never leaving the crimson bird as she prods through her feathers with her beak, “do you think that she will grow to be as big as the other Cloudstrider mounts?”

Mito chuckles. “Well, of course she will. All hatchlings are this tiny within the first few weeks. Then, she’ll be bigger than a horse and just as strong, too, before you even know it.” She runs her fingers through his hair. He regards her silently, humming under his breath. “Now, come on, I could really use your help with the gardens. This cycle is about to end, you know.”

Gon purses his lips. “Oh! Right!” He grins brightly, turning to set Runa on his desk before dashing after his aunt. He slides down the staircase, hopping and bouncing like a gazelle. “I want to know about _all_ of the cycles, Aunt Mito! And then, when Runa’s healed and she grows big enough, I can fly on her all around the islands! Then, we can find treasure and go out into the ocean!”

Mito suppresses a frown at this, though she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She clears her throat as the boy strides up next to her, his sleeveless cotton shirt catching the first ripples of the outside breeze. His skin is already tinted the slightest red and orange twinge, similar to most tones that residents of the Sun Kingdom bestowed.

They walk together from their settlement by the sea to the patterned gardens. Gon is always a few steps ahead of her, his jaw consistently open in awe as he surveys the rolling waves and the other residents of their village. Children chase each other along reddened stone, crimson dust kicking up in smoky towers like the dusted breath of fire. The Sun shifts and turns overhead like a beacon of hope and beauty, casting healing rays onto their crops.

Gon then grabs Mito’s hand—so young and small, yet calloused with the hardened blisters of a farmer, of a _soldier_ —Cloudstriders taking flight over their heads, armored legionnaires—men and women alike—sparring in the crisp winds with clashing steel swords and red and orange sigils emblazed on their breastplates.

Tall and sturdy stalks of vegetables with thick, mahogany flesh are already bursting with blooming white petals, seeds and fresh juices. They stand in strong unison alongside each other, looming like towers.

Gon takes out a knife and carefully separates the gourds from the stalks, having to stand on his tip-toes to do so. His nose scrunches as he maneuvers his way through the garden labyrinth, his aunt laughing as he does so while filling her own basket with golden, ovular fruits and smaller purple berries.

“Make sure you grab some of the smaller turngourds, too! Those are great for medicine when not fully ripe,” calls Mito, having just stuffed another berry the size of her palm into her basket.

Gon beams at her and nods vigorously, turning back towards the stalks with newfound concentration. He carves his way through the stems, carefully and precisely removing the turngourds as instructed. He’d only been taught how to do this once, when he was just barely reaching past his father’s knee. When the old man bothered staying at his side and warning him to never pass the Wall.

His knife slips, narrowly avoiding cutting his kin. He bites his tongue as he catches the handle, releasing a steady sigh. He looks back up at the stalks and unhinges the last gourd from its root. He turns, and stares through the meandering path of fringed vegetables spurring from the earth and the willowy trees ripe with fresh, glowing berries and fruits.

“I got all the good ones, Aunt Mito!” Gon calls, one hand cupped around his mouth. He grins to himself as he hears his aunt call him back. He laughs, and follows the length of the growing winds as he squints up to the skies.

The Cloudstriders are still sparring. Gon’s chest flutters with longing, with utmost admiration, as he watches the powerful birds steer and slash with their curved beaks and pointed talons, wings slicing heavy and like cracks of endless thunder in the quiet breeze.

The Cloudstriders—the honored protectors and devoted, royal legionnaires of the Sun—are whirling and drifting through the air in blinding spirals, shouting directions in careful, cautious manners, avoiding just narrowly lopping off limbs and sending one another into the ground below.

One would never think they were practicing combat. No one would ever consider the blood that stained their blades and the fear that fell into their hearts in this century and the last, when times were far grimmer, when the Sun was viciously—and rightfully—torn away from the disparaging other half.

Gon’s smile falters at this. The tales have always been solemn, tracing back to days where he could hardly imagine the painful way the Sun would be forced to remain intact with its shadowed other half. A being of blistering white light that desperately attempted to steal the glory of the Sun, so despised in his culture and so ridiculed in the libraries on the island that he never bothered asking his Aunt Mito about any more stories.

She’d stopped telling him those forlorn legends once he was old enough to understand that death was more than just a natural way of life—that, at times, they were given with brute force, and in other times they were bestowed with regality and poise.

Gon turns, staring just enough through the parted turngourd stalks to glimpse the massive structure that separated the Sun from its greatest enemy. His eyes trail up the browned, cracked, deep crimson veins that twined and whispered through layers of smooth granite and marble. They formed impenetrable stones, mounted higher and higher over the last two centuries, consistently engraved with the names of kings and queens who swore to the fealty of the Sun and refused to allow its ill-fated brother to cross paths with it again.

Nothing could be brighter than the Sun. The thought that something darker, sinister, something that was so malicious that it would need to ruthlessly seize the Sun’s throne—it sounded far too awful to be true.

To Gon, there was nothing that could quell the unbridled anger he felt pool in his gut whenever his aunt would mention such distressing stories, though she’d spoken them as actual threads of their history, that it was a blessing for the Sun to be separated from the banished, dwarfed brother on the other side of the Wall.

The men and women who dedicated their lives to protecting the Sun from the other side of the Wall, from the dangerous creatures that were rumored to lurk there, from the bloodthirsty, shadow-drawn people who threatened to steal the Sun’s light, were regarded as heroes.

The massive birds that rode lightning and surged through the illuminated skies with crackled storms in their midst were just as mighty and beautiful as their riders, displayed for all to see in tapestries depicting their contribution to the Great War for the Sun more than four hundred years ago. The idea of glimpsing them in an ultimate battle makes Gon’s skin shiver with excitement, with the impending, thrilling wish to join the Cloudstriders once he’s come of age.

Gon gathers his basket and finds his way back through the maze, sliding down the rocky slopes to the strip of beach below him. He turns and finds his aunt waving from far into the sand, her skirt billowing in the salty winds. He smiles, yet once he lifts a foot to move closer to her, something bright catches the corner of his eye.

“Huh?” He blinks, perplexed, at the flicker sparking off in the waves. It pops like a flailing of water, barely seeable against the bright blue canvas of the sky. It vanishes, and returns only seconds later, with splashes rippling through the ocean waves from a source that is not from his current vantage point.

Where could that be coming from?

Gon purses his lips, and is nearly tugged back into his home by the ear when he refuses to answer his aunt’s beckoning calls for his name.

* * *

 

 

* * *

Gon returns to the beach once the Sun rests at its lowest peak, just above the edge of the ocean waters.

The time of the endless cycle where most villagers would tuck into their beds or when children would tell each other stores and sneak off into the grottos by the local gardens. It had taken hours for him to convince his aunt that he hadn’t seen anything at the beach, but the concern drilled into him almost immediately, and he could hardly focus on peeling the turngourds when his mind flickered back to the strange splashing in the waves.

He retraces his steps through the sand. He pauses to reassess the gardens, the Sun resting gently in the distance as a glowing orb of peace and light.

Then, he finds his gaze wandering back to the exact same spot at the junction between the open garden edge and the ocean waters. Smooth stones are melded together by natural wax, strips of moss and hardened mud forming the clench around watered pebbles. Waves crash onto the surface, right into the open mouth of a crack in the ledge that Gon had never noticed before.

He carefully steps into the water, shifting his feet into the heavy, slick sand as it delves between his toes. He shifts closer to the stone, grasping the rock as a means of support as he continues twisting his body through gentle currents. He keeps his mouth shut to prevent any noise from slipping out, his senses spiking as he listens for any indication of the splashing noises from earlier.

Then, he spots something crawling along the turngourd garden’s slope. A slender, almost bony, figure swiftly jolts through the looming plants and hauls a bag over a pair of shoulders. The stranger’s features are distinguishable only when the figure moves more towards the light, around the corner where Gon is hidden under the rocky crevice.

His heart—for just a moment, a fleeting, breath-catching second—leaps. Though, he’s not sure why, even as he gulps loudly in the brief expanse of quiet and immediately causes the shadowed figure to turn from where he stands on the slope, just barely reaching over to drop the sack he was carrying into the waters.

The first thing Gon notices about this stranger is the crown of bedraggled silver-white hair, carried in thick currents by the resting Sun’s generous breeze. His sleeveless blue shirt is dark and riddled with gaping holes and exposing scratched skin beneath, along with bruises and clouds of dust marring skin that appears so smooth and frighteningly pale that Gon immediately thinks: _this person is sick. This person needs help._

But then, the stranger’s eyes meet his, and there is nothing that has paused Gon’s thoughts more in one instance than the sight of those steely blue eyes.

_A boy?_

A completely frozen, hesitant boy, more accurately, who’s gripping onto the threadbare sack for dear life and staring at Gon as if he’s been caught committing murder.

Gon blinks. Once. Twice.

He opens his mouth, one hand outstretched.

In that instant, in a flurry of blinding speed that forces Gon to shake his head in utter bafflement, the boy with the blue eyes and white skin is gone.

“Wait…” Gon trails off, tilting his head. “I just…”

_Who was he?_

He purses his lips in thought. Perhaps he could find more clues in this grotto.

He crawls further into the grotto, squinting his eyes and following the expanse of soaked sand and stones that lead into the caved out underbelly of the garden slope. He’s never been in here before, but he knows that these grottos are common along beaches on the island chain.

He surveys the tiny crawlspace, squinting through the hardened lines of stone, moss and wood that weave into each other to form striking patterns. Slowly, Gon lowers onto the ground and rests his chin on his upturned hands, staring over the wet sand particles and halfway tempted to draw his fingers through the surface.

“Oh!” He blinks and smiles widely, reaching forward and plucking out a glistening, shining silver pebble in the sand. He blinks down at it, turning his head and fiddling with the object in his palms.

He turns it over, and opens his mouth in awe at the pale string that binds the tiny sphere together, glinting white like chalk even in the darkness of the grotto. He rubs his eyes, not at all used to the slightest shadow, and crawls out of the grotto and makes his way back onto the beach before he can change his mind about taking the necklace.

Maybe the boy will come back?

Gon frowns at the thought. He’d looked so… _frightened_. As if Gon would actually try to harm him, or take away what he was carrying on his back. He’d never seen anyone with skin that color and hair that bright, and those eyes—

He’d seen blue eyes before. Plenty of citizens from the Sun Kingdom were lighter in color, though most carried the similar undertone of red or orange or brown that melded into their bloodlines over the last few centuries from seeing nothing but the Sun’s loving warmth.

But that boy…

He hadn’t looked like he’d ever seen the Sun.

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

Gon tends to Runa once the Sun drifts in a timely halo across the sky once more, fully rested. He begins peeling the turngourds and plucking flowers from the flare lily next to the kitchen table.

He finds himself drawn back to the grotto, wondering if the same boy will be there again.

This time, he leaves a note nestled between the pebbles, hoping, for some reason he can’t explain, that the boy will return and answer his call.

* * *

 

 

* * *

“Gon? Honey? Where are you going? The Sun’s resting.”

Gon blinks and smiles at her, having put on a looser green shirt and keeping his trousers hiked up his waist in case he would wade through the ocean water again. He still smells faintly of churning seaweed and salt, the necklace shoved into his pockets as carefully as possible. He’d almost wished he could keep it mounted on his wall, despite the fleeting thought that his aunt could go into his room at any time and ask him about the blinding polished stone.

“I just want to go walk on the beach. It’s always nicest when no one’s around!” He chirps, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

He hopes that the pale boy is there, probably searching for his necklace, or at least lingering around the gardens again. He wants to ask him so many questions, and all of them are too loaded on the tip of his tongue to be held back from exploding in due time.

Mito frowns at this, yet slowly nods.

“Well, alright. But, you need to be back before the Sun even _starts_ waking up. You understand?”

Gon nods, grinning. “Yes, Aunt Mito!”

He leaves the door open to his house, pumping his arms as he springs to the beach. The Sun is resting low once more on the lip of the sea, barely kissing the water as the crystal waves roll onto the shore, topped in deep greenish and white foam.

He makes it halfway to the garden slope when something hard and quick leaps out, slamming against his ankles and causing him to fall headfirst into the ground. He whines in pain and turns, only to find the pressure of another body on top of him. He blinks, staring, shocked, into those same blue eyes from a few cycles before. He struggles, even as the other boy’s hand clamps over his mouth and he leans in with one finger over his lips.

“Listen,” growls the boy, “you say one word, and I’m giving you a black eye. Understand?”

Gon resists the urge to roll his eyes at this statement, but nods against the hand regardless. Slowly, the white-haired boy leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. Despite his sunken cheekbones and strange, unorthodox appearance, there is an undeniable pull towards this boy that Gon has never experienced with any of the other children in the Sun’s kingdom.

“You have it. I know you have it.” He snorts. “Stupid…”

“Eh?” Gon frowns. “Oh! The pebble!” He smiles brightly, just as the white-haired boy flails his arms and _slaps_ him upside the head. Gon blinks and moans in pain. “Ow! Why did you do that? I was just responding—”

“I literally just made you agree to stay quiet! I’m doing the talking here.” The boy hesitates, his hands slowly balling into fists at his side. He then points accusingly towards Gon, a certain fire dancing in those haunting eyes. “Tell me where it is. I know that you took it. That—that stone doesn’t _belong_ to _you_.”

Gon frowns. “Can we talk standing up? Um, it’s hard to breathe.”

The white-haired boy quirks an eyebrow at this, letting out a low huff before he obliges, and removes himself from Gon. Both boys stand on the stones, opposite of each other. Gon assesses the stranger from head to toe, blinking at the fact that they are roughly the same height, yet he recognizes the luster and hue to his own skin is far healthier in comparison to the too-pale, too-thin structure of the other.

_Where is your family? Where do you come from? I’ve never seen you in this village before…_

“Did you tell anyone?” the boy asks, sharply. His voice is electric in the way it rips down Gon’s spine, something akin to what he’d imagined it would feel like to take flight with a Cloudstrider for the first time.

“Huh?” Gon blurts out.

The white-haired boy sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing to the side. The winds ruffle through his clothes, casting aside his sweaty silver-pale locks.

Gon wants to reach out and weave his fingers through the wild mane. Does it feel as soft as it looks? It resembles the silver thread he sometimes finds in his Aunt Mito’s sewing kit, though it was never used for anything other than stringing other cloths and linens together. A tool for forming paths between buttons and needles.

No, _this_ shade of silver is entirely different from that one.

“S-Stop staring at me and answer the question! Do you have any idea what will happen if one of those bird guards find me?” The white-haired boy snaps, his near-translucent skin tinting the slightest hint of pink. It reminds Gon of the steady light cascading over the ocean, so close to them past the stone ledges and white sand and crystalline blue waters.

“Um…” Gon hums as he nods. “Right. Um. Sorry.” He slips his hand into his pocket, and slowly pulls out the stone. Even now, the string glints like metal, and the smooth, intricately patterned marble dances with a certain shine that Gon has never seen before in his life. “Is this it? I’m sorry that I took it—I just, I was looking for the pebbles that I saw being tossed into the ocean earlier. I didn’t think that I’d find you, or a necklace like that…”

The boy snarls, stomping over and quickly swiping the stone out of his hands.

“It—look, it doesn’t matter. We can just pretend this never happened. I have to go.”

He turns to leave, but Gon is faster.

He reaches out and snatches the other’s arm, effectively trapping the white-haired boy in place. Slowly, the other turns his head, assessing the strange form of contact between them. Gon resists shivering at feeling such frighteningly cold skin immediately burst into sweat beneath his grip, and he wonders just how many flashes of fear and uncertainty have painted the other’s otherworldly skin since he’d first seen him.

“Let go.”

It’s quick, like a whip cracking in the air. Gon slowly shakes his head.

“What’s your name?”

Instantly, the white-haired boy blinks. One eye at a time. He splutters and rips his hand away from Gon, his chest heaving in heavy pants as his eyes dart back and forth in furious spurts. He seems tempted to keep his place rooted in the earth and sprint off in a shadowed direction.

“Why would I ever tell you that?”

Gon tilts his head. “I mean… I’ve never seen you before.”

The other boy’s shoulders go from rigid and taut to relaxed in a few seconds. His brow furrows, the contemplative pursing of his mouth drawing Gon’s attention. He places his hands on his hips, his eyes drawing from Gon’s shoes to the very top of his head, as if attempting to solve a great mystery that only he is aware of.

“… You think I’m from here.”

It’s not a question, Gon concludes.

The strange, pale boy gestures with a sweeping arm to the tall, spiraling bricked houses and humble village shops in awkward unison. Gon watches this and slowly nods, shrugging his shoulders as if to propose another question. The other boy blinks at this and slowly runs his hand through his hair, the sudden shift in the tension affecting the two of them as if a mutual wave had stopped and crashed onto their minds and bodies.

“Wow. Are you _all_ this ignorant?”

Gon blinks. “I—what? I’m not ignorant!” He frowns. “I just… I saw you and wanted to know who you were. What your name was. And—and where you came from! I mean, you have to be from the Sun’s kingdom, right?”

Immediately, the other boy slowly shakes his head, never once breaking eye contact with him.

“If I was, don’t you think I would’ve just knocked on your door? Do you think I would’ve been sneaking around in those weird public plantations?” He shrugs. “I mean, not that anyone seems to care if a couple of those weird purple gourd things are gone every few weeks or so.”

Gon’s jaw drops. “You—you’re _stealing_?” He frowns. “But, stealing’s...”

“Bad?” The boy shrugs. “Not in my case. You clearly have enough to go around.” He stares at Gon as if he’s grown another limb, though the Sun-born adolescent can hardly piece together why the other seems just as confused as he is. “Also, the only reason I’m telling you this is because you seem kind of dumb, but you’re not _terrible_. I guess.”

Gon blinks. He can’t decide whether or not to accept the incredibly backhanded compliment or just respond to the negative label. Instead, he focuses on the way the other’s lips twitch into an amused, crooked smile, and the gesture seems so rare on this bruised, scratched face—one that Gon finds all the more intriguing and fascinating with each moment that passes.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Gon clears his throat. “If you’re…” His heart drops to his toes. He shudders, yet he can hardly bring himself to ask a question that he’d never even considered to be in the realm of possibility. “Are you from…?”

The boy snorts. “How could you not know…?” He shakes his head. “I’m heading back to where I’m from. And no, it’s not here.”

“Then where is it?” Gon’s nose scrunches up.

The boy rolls his eyes, yet he teeters back and forth on the balls of his feet. The air of whimsy swarms him in a sudden cloud, over a layer of caution and flightiness that Gon has never grown accustomed to over his many relaxed years under the Sun’s comforting warmth.

The boy then turns halfway, and points.

Gon follows the extended finger towards the massive structure that has separated the Sun from its traitorous brother for centuries. The marbled stone ripples with fiery veins even now, pulsing with magic and the promise of further protection for many more centuries to come.

Gon’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. His jaw drops, as he addresses the boy in front of him with shining wonderment in his burning gold irises. The other boy stiffens under his stare and awkwardly shoves his hands back into his pockets, kicking bluntly at the ground beneath their feet in paced, steady motions.

“Really?” Gon whispers.

The other male rolls his eyes. “No. I made it up. I’m the first pasty street urchin to be born in a place where literally every person turns red or orange like a clan of weird demented fruits.” He shakes his head. “What would be the point in lying?”

A lump forms in Gon’s throat.

He can hardly grasp the possibility, not with the stories he’d heard over these years, not with the constant battle against the impending forces on the other side of the Wall.

He’d never glimpsed actual illustrations of what creatures and… people, looked like on the other side. The other side seems almost as forbidden as the idea that the Sun—as bright and breathtaking and beautiful as it was—could possibly be acquainted with a force constantly attempting to seize its rightful place.

“You’re… from the Moon’s kingdom.”

The boy sighs. “Yeah. You’re clearly a genius.” He takes out the necklace, tossing the stone in his hands and glancing over Gon’s features once more.

“Wait, I—you’re going already?” Gon frowns. “I just… can I know your name?” He blinks and then smiles widely, waving his arms at his side and grinning toothily as if his previous concerns have vanished in a heartbeat. “My name is Gon! Gon Freecss! In case you wanted to know. I live around the corner in the closest village to here. And, I go to that garden a lot. It’s a public place for harvesting.”

The boy’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. “Why are you…”

He snorts and turns away, yet the blush staining his pale cheeks has grown darker. Deeper. Gon bites the inside of his cheek to prevent his own expression from growing in length.

“Why do you _care_? I just confessed to stealing your crops and you…” He frowns. “You’re _weird_.”

Gon shrugs. “I mean, most people are.”

He slowly comes closer to the other boy, who remains steadfast despite the clear hesitation and nervousness rippling across his body in nearly palpable waves. Gon smirks at this reaction, leaning forward with his hands snaking behind his back, his fingers interweaving.

“So, you can tell me your name now, right? That means we’d be even!”

The silver-haired boy growls and steps back. He reminds Gon vaguely of the tiny tiger cubs that are often taken on walks through the village from local troupe members, the stripes pronounced and claws sharp. Yet, despite their beautiful dark reds and oranges and blurring black lines, the cubs would purr and snap at their owners’ hands, pelts bristling nonstop as if a thunderstorm brewed beneath their skins and furs.

“… Killua.” He shrugs, yet when he attempts to look away, Gon sidles over and match eye contact with him once more. The boy blushes further and takes several steps back.

Gon finds himself quite drawn to the way the red dashes the other’s face, like watching a rose bloom out of fine porcelain.

“ _Kil-lu-a._ ” Gon clicks his tongue and smiles broadly, nodding his head. “I really like it! That’s so pretty! I’ve never even heard of a name like that before! Are all people from the Moon’s kingdom named like that?”

Killua’s jaw drops. He stays frozen, absolutely gobsmacked, as time ticks by and Gon can watch a dozen conflicting emotions wrestle back in forth in the other boy’s eyes. The corner of Killua’s mouth twitches, and he turns cleanly on his heel to start walking back towards the Wall.

“Wait!” Gon bites his tongue.

“Hm?” Killua glances over his shoulder, though the overly widened eyes and mock-innocent expression crossing his features tell Gon that he’s walked directly into a ploy. “I’m giving this necklace back to who it belongs.” He shrugs. “You coming?”

Gon’s hands curl up at his sides.

He doesn’t even question the opportunity to see something he’s never had the chance to envision before. Would it truly be possible for him, a being raised under the Sun, to walk under the light of a dangerous figure he’s only heard of in bedtime stories and in disdain on the lips of Cloudstriders—his own heroes?

Killua already begins walking, kicking aside browned stones as he does so.

Gon holds his breath, bursts into a wide, insatiable smile, and breaks into a run.

* * *

 

 

* * *

For reasons Gon can’t explain, he finds himself drawn to nearly every aspect of Killua, as the white-haired, pale-skinned boy leads him through winding canals and broken tunnels carved into the Wall.

The white stone is cool and smooth beneath his touch, their bodies small and wiry enough to slip through each crevice and caved corner that separates the two kingdoms. Gon’s mouth is dry, his heart racing with each moment that passes, wondering if he’s awake or dreaming. Is the Sun still resting on the lip of the ocean? Is it stirring in response to a child of the Sun willingly leaving the island’s windswept beaches?

Killua is strong despite his size. He’s able to crawl up collapsed stone and thick, menacing tree roots that spiral through the rock around them in flurried patterns. Occasionally, Gon trips and fumbles over the awkward ridges separating the cracks in the marble, earning a loud, boisterous laugh from Killua that ends with both of them smiling secretly in unison.

Gon watches the shadows recede and grow, dancing in dark wisps along his pale companion. Killua regards him simply and shortly as time passes in the strange meandering tunnels, carved out with careful hands and clearly only naturally constructed to an extent. From observing the bitten-down cuticles and bruised knuckles of the other boy, Gon wonders just how many of the desperate carvings and indents in the walls are from Killua’s doing.

Killua would never be able to carve out an entire tunnel, but the occasional dips in the walls seem more curious than anything, as if someone had specifically targeted those spots to uncover a secret.

Gon squints, running his fingers along the upturned throng of roots snaking over the stones. He watches as subtle bursts of whitish blue light react to his touch. He retracts his hand, glancing between his flexing hand and the blur of palpable energy that drifts from his touch through the roots in rivers.

“It’s reacting to you because it’s not used to people from the Sun touching it.”

Gon slowly nods. That would make sense, he supposes, considering he’s never seen withered plants like the ones in these tunnels in the Sun Kingdom. The bark on these roots and the leaves occasionally sprouting from within them are dusted in grays, faded browns, creams and blues.

“The colors are so different,” he says.

“Well, what did you expect?”

Gon turns to the other boy, a somber smile overtaking his lips.

“I think it’s really pretty.” He ponders, humming under his breath. “The Sun has nothing like this.” He turns to Killua, and the other boy is regarding him with cautious, questioning eyes. Gon returns the expression with a chuckle and a broad grin. “I really want to see what the Moon is like!”

Killua turns away quickly, clearing his throat. “Right. But, you have to follow my lead. When we get out into the streets, people will know instantly where you’re from. I’ve been raised in the Moon Kingdom my whole life and even I don’t get a free pass, here.”

Gon frowns, yet nods. There’s something unmistakably trustworthy about the way Killua speaks to him, despite having known each other for less than a cycle.

Perhaps it’s due to just how flippant the other boy is, or how his reasoning for allowing Gon—a child of the Sun in every way, shape and form—to follow him through secret passages in the Wall, seems all too casual for anyone else to grasp. Yet, Gon takes each reasoning in stride, wondering about the depths to which Killua is willing to go in order to form a connection between a stranger borne from the Moon’s enemy.

 _I want to see more._ Gon nods, suppressing the strange bubbling in his chest that alights his insides with fire and curiosity. He wishes to continue following Killua into the rubble and onto the other surface, to truly see what it’s like.

He’s never seen anything more beautiful than the Sun, yet…

“Okay, follow me and stay quiet until we reach the surface.”

Gon snaps out of his thoughts and turns to Killua, following the other boy’s slim form as he crawls up a mound of melded stone and vines. Gon watches, once Killua’s skin brushes the same plants and roots Gon had touched before, as they remain stationary, lacking any of the glow they demonstrated when Gon had dared to reach out and bush his fingers along them.

His Aunt Mito had told him stories, once, of a young girl who picked a flower—a horrible, ugly flower, he remembers as stark details—from the Moon’s shadowed lands. In that story, he’d always remembered just how odd it was to imagine that the girl was doomed from the start and became swallowed up in the Moon’s hungry plants. A tragic, dark sacrifice.

Yet, when he touches the roots and occasional broad leaf, he sees nothing but light ripple through their stems and flood their veins. It reminds him of the magic that pulses in the Wall, though this sensation is far lighter. Different. Ethereal.

The desire to see _more_ of these plants, these stones… to see more of Killua, the person who’s bothering to grant him access to something so secretive, so sacred, makes Gon’s skin electrify with goose bumps and an elated smile to stretch across his mouth. He would laugh if he had more time, would relish in the excitement if he could share it with the other boy while gaining the same level of understanding.

“Hey, dummy! Are you coming or not?” Killua calls, exasperated.

Gon leaps to his feet and immediately begins climbing the stones. The rock is cool and draped with moss beneath his weight, and he already can compare just how dim and frigid everything feels in comparison to the dust and rocks and sand from his own kingdom.

He looks up, and squints—though this is the first time he’s had to do so in the presence of darkness.

Killua glances down from his spot on a rock ledge that leads into another hole in the ceiling. He yanks on a string extended below the stones, and Gon’s jaw slacks as a concealed wooden slab falls open.

Gooseflesh bursts on Gon’s arms. His breath lodges in his lungs, unable to turn away from the faltering silver light that floods the tunnels.

“Remember. Stay close, and don’t say anything,” says Killua. His voice is soft and silken, threading through the shadows enveloping the lone figures in another presence that Gon envisions as water beneath his hands.

Gon nods, but only partially paying attention to what the Moon-borne citizen has said. He skids around the light, stiffening at the thought of allowing himself to step into a presence so blinding. Will it harm him if he dares to approach the light? If he inches towards the tentative stream of white and silver billowing along the upturned vines and stones, will he turn the same shade?

His hesitation quickly subsides as Killua heaves himself up, his form disappearing just outside of the square hole in the rock ceiling. Gon bites his tongue, his heart racing at an unfathomable pace. He glances behind him, towards the darkness in the tunnels that lead back to the rippling waves and gentle resting Sun in the horizon.

Then, with a definitive turn of his neck—fists clenched so hard that his knuckles blanche white—he follows the other boy, and opens his eyes to something entirely new.

* * *

 

 

* * *

“Holy—don’t pass out from holding your breath, doofus!”

Gon doesn’t even acknowledge Killua’s statement—not at first. As soon as he pulls himself up the square hole in the hidden tunnels, he wrinkles his nose at the unfamiliar smells assaulting his nostrils. Compared to the floral and woodsy aromas that linger in the Sun Kingdom, this stench weaves through a certain, uncomfortable musk that causes his throat to close up and his eyes to water.

Before Gon can ask about the smells, he glances up at the inky black sky—a color he’s never seen in such a broad expanse. A small—too small, almost—circular white orb is imprinted on the obsidian canvas like a tattoo. His eyes widen, slowly absorbing the luminescent, bone-white flash that sparks up the blackness swallowing up the villages around them. He turns, running his eyes along the stone pillars and wooden slabs making up shelters and stands on the side of a gravel pathway.

He and Killua are crouched low behind a collection of wooden barrels, the lids missing and exuding a strong, overwhelming stench. His nose wrinkles once more, and he finally turns to Killua with his voice already half-gone, his mind still turned towards what he believes to be the Moon with an unconscious connection to the Sun.

The Sun is bright. Large. Constantly moving and shifting.

The Moon is also bright, in a way. Though it’s far smaller, a more demure presence. It remains frozen in one particular angle in the sky, amongst a sea of charring black and traces of deep blue.

He takes a step forward when Killua snatches his forearm and tugs him back. He blinks, finding himself inches away from the other boy’s angry, livid blue-gray eyes.

“Are you _insane_? I told you that no one can see you here! If the guards catch us, both of us could be executed for smuggling a boy from the Sun Kingdom in here!” He shakes his head and pulls away, running his hands through his locks.

Gon blinks. “You look just like it…”

Killua snorts and turns to him, growling. “What?”

“The…” Gon trails off, finding it rather eerie just how incredibly similar this boy exudes the presence of the quiet symbol of his Kingdom hanging over their heads. “The Moon. You’re like the Moon. And this sky that surrounds it. It’s so dark and blue and quiet.” He nods. “No Cloudstriders. And it smells… different.”

Killua stands up and brushes down his pants, placing his hands on his hips with a low whistle leaving his pursed mouth.

“What you’re smelling is smoke and char. The oil trade is part of what keeps us alive, at least with other villages and cities in Moon.” He shrugs. “Used to know a lot about that…” He raises an eyebrow towards Gon. “Everyone here is lighter in color. What, did you think everyone in this world looked like you?”

Gon clamps his jaw shut at this. That was worth mulling over, he thinks.

Killua, with expertise and slender, slow movements, swiftly winds through the gravel pathway that extends into the luminous, darkened alleys. Gon rubs his eyes, keeping his head low and hidden in the darkness that blankets them both as they slide along the walls. He remains close to Killua, watching the angled profile of the other boy become swathed in the Moon’s light as they drift and wade in the shadows.

The colors here are dark and light, though lack the same hues and tones Gon has grown accustomed to. The birds and insects that fly through the air on this side of the Wall range between grays, browns, blues, the darkest greens and strange mixes between shades he’d never believed could exist.

“Who’s necklace?” Gon smiles slightly as Killua stops in his walking and turns to him.

“You’re…” He sighs, muttering under his breath. “Shouldn’t have even dragged him along…” He shakes his head and regards Gon with crossed arms. “It belongs to my sister.”

Gon blinks, and suddenly can’t help but envision who this person could possibly be. He remains quiet as he continues following Killua, all while ignoring the chilling excitement that spurs in his blood.

* * *

 

 

* * *

“Alluka? Are you up?”

Gon shifts in his shoes, looking around him at the creaking floorboards to the lone warehouse level where Killua has taken him. It’s quiet, with only their footsteps creaking on wood sounding off through the dark, endless shadows of the Moon Kingdom.

The breeze rustles through his clothes and he wonders what the ocean looks like on this side of the Wall, what the sand appears when bathed in the light of the risen Moon rather than the resting Sun.

“Alluka, I brought your necklace back. Can I come in?” Killua’s tone is so soft and gentle that it nearly startles Gon. He watches as the boy raps his knuckles on the door, the sound almost deafening in comparison to no other noise that follows his tender question.

Then, the door opens.

“Brother…?”

The voice is feminine and gentle, weaving soft and silken in the air like a cord of jasmine. The little girl barely reaches Killua’s knees, pudgy hands grasping the door and hair long and sweeping in raven tides over tiny shoulders. The eyes are large, luminescent, and just as breathtaking and beautiful as her brother’s.

Killua leans down to the girl’s level, smiling tenderly as he reaches out and ruffles her hair. She places her thumb in her mouth, blinking sleep from her eyes. She’s dressed in a white gown, modest and clearly of finer material than what Killua is wearing. With how filthy he looks Gon would have expected the baby sister to be in even worse condition, yet…

Gon frowns. It’s painful to think that these two have no home. No Aunt Mito. No garden to turn to when hungry. Was that why Killua was risking his own life to venture to the other side of the Wall? Why he plucked plants and fruits that didn’t belong to him?

 _He’s not safe here._ Anger boils in his chest at the thought. The old stories had claimed the Moon to be vile, to be awful, to be the greatest enemy the Sun had ever known.

Yet, upon seeing the Moon, upon seeing the two children in front of him…

Killua’s words echo in the back of his mind, reaching out to him like Cloudstrider talons.

_How could you not know…?_

Gon shakes his head, even as Killua shoves a finger into his chest. He jumps back, yet smiles sheepishly in the other boy’s presence and allows his grin to widen at the little girl hiding halfway behind the door.

“Apologize to Alluka,” says Killua.

Gon blinks. “Eh?”

“ _Apologize_.” He folds his arms and tilts his head towards her. “You owe her one. You took her necklace, and she couldn’t sleep at all because _you_ kept it to yourself.” He shrugs, closing his eyes as he releases a long, heavy sigh. “So, apologize.” 

Despite his authoritative stance and words, there is an undeniable sense of embarrassment that clouds Killua, matching the new blush painting his cheeks and nose.

Gon bites the inside of his mouth to keep his smirk from growing. He rather likes the sight of the other Moon-born boy turning so red, even with just the simplest of gestures and words.

“She’s beautiful!” Gon chirps, and crouches low to the ground at the little girl’s level. She blinks at him, utterly baffled at his presence. “You’re so pretty, like your brother.” He then frowns, resting his chin in the upturned palms of his hands. “I’m sorry for taking your necklace, Alluka. I was just trying to keep it safe. Can you forgive me?”

He extends his hand, allowing his pinky finger to curve into the air.

Killua snorts. “What are you doing?”

Alluka hesitantly reaches out, her fingers wrapping around Gon’s. He grins and bobs her tiny hand up and down, his voice raising to a sing-song level as he recalls the chant his aunt would often make him perform when he was even younger.

“… and then seal with a kiss!” He presses their thumbs together, earning a delighted squeal from Alluka. Her grayish-blue eyes shine with absolute joy as she turns to her brother, who glances between the two of them with a rather alarmed, gawking expression.

“I like him!” she says.

Gon smiles. “I like you too, Alluka! My name’s Gon!”

She claps her hands. “It’s okay that you took it.” She nods. “You can make more with me.”

Gon stands up, turning to Killua with a satisfied quirk in his lips. The boy’s features have softened, just slightly, and with the silent, thankful looks that Killua grants his sister, Gon knows that he’s succeeded on some level.

It’s the first time Gon meets Killua and Alluka, two children forced into the shadows of their own home. This land of obsidian skies and churning smoke in the air and flowers and plants rippling with blue, glowing veins.

It’s the first time of many, in which Gon crosses to this side of the Wall.

* * *

 

 

* * *

Gon finds himself drawn back to the Moon Kingdom, with and without the presence of his new white-haired companion risking his life beneath the Sun first. He harvests the turngourds and watches the Cloudstriders, though the spaces next to him or even little Runa at his windowsill fade to the background of the image of the boy from the Moon’s land, who’d risked his safety and life to give Gon a taste of another world. A place he’d never dreamt of existing before.

He gathers leftover cakes and fruits into a wrapped cloth, stuffing an extra layer of cheese as well into the material. He lopes it over his shoulder and hops out his window, sliding down the tiled roofs and landing cleanly on the red-dusted streets. He flashes smiles at the village residents, lifting his nose in the air and inhaling the sweeping salty breeze as it drifts and sails along the wooden and stone shops and houses.

He completes his chores for his Aunt Mito, all the while intent on leaving once the Sun would rest. And when it does, he follows the same route—hidden from the guards, from the Cloudstriders, from the other men, women and children who flock the beach several ticks in time before Gon even sets foot on the sand.

Every time he leaves his side of the Wall, he practices caution he’d never known before. The freedom that clung to him like an effervescent cloak was stripped away in the presence of startling darkness, though each time he crawls over the roots and ducks his head beneath dripping water, he relishes the change.

His mind feels opened through a veil of shadows he’d never expected to be there, being raised on an island chain glowing with the Sun’s beauty. With the Sun’s radiance, kindness, gentleness, its endless warmth and bliss…

Yet, despite how much he adores watching the Sun rest on the edge of the ocean, he finds himself drawn to a land of ashen skies, pillars of smoke, people with skin the shade of porcelain and ivory and a boy whose eyes are bluer than sapphire stones.

“Sheesh, you took forever this time, dummy,” is the first thing Killua says when Gon arrives at the usual wooden door to his hiding place.

“I brought you more food,” says Gon, grinning. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

It’s the truth, yet, each time he says it, Killua still stutters and pushes aside the statement with a rosy blush painting his marble features.

Butterflies stir in Gon’s stomach each time he’s able to witness it. It feels special, forbidden almost, for a boy from the Sun’s land being able to not only befriend a child of the Moon, but to be the reason behind the flurry of expressions that take over Killua makes something inside him burst into life and _soar_.

He’d never imagined his first friend to be born on the other side of the Wall, but Gon can hardly ignore how he finds it a blessing, rather than a curse.

 _The tapestries are wrong_. He bites his bottom lip. _The Moon isn’t…_

The Moon Kingdom is different. But as far as Gon can see, it is not the evil manifestation of betrayal that was painted on the walls of teahouses and shops he’d visited with his aunt.

“You can’t just say things like that, you know.”

Gon blinks and glances at the other boy, who has his attention fixated on the block of cheese wrapped up alongside turngourds and bulbous green berries.

“But, it’s the truth, Killua!” Gon scrunches his nose. “Whenever the Sun rests I come here because I want to see you. And, Alluka too!” He tilts his head. “Why is that a bad thing?”

Killua grits his teeth. “You don’t… know what you’re saying.” He rolls his eyes. “Your home is bright and full of _life_. You have a home.” He snorts. “I don’t really mind that. I’m going to protect Alluka with everything I have, even if it means risking everything going to the Sun Kingdom to get food for her.” He shrugs. “You shouldn’t be risking everything you have to come here. I could just—”

“Killua.”

The other boy blinks at being interrupted and glares at Gon, though there’s little animosity behind his expression. The taut muscles in his jaw and the clear shadows in his irises betray any sense of confidence that he’s attempting to display.

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It…” His hands tighten over his knees, a surge of anger rising in his chest, like a calm whirring of a storm. “It makes me so _mad_ that you’re treated differently at all—this whole place, it’s so beautiful. And… and you and Alluka are _amazing_ , and _you’re_ incredible, Killua!”

He hadn’t realized the moment when he’d invaded the other boy’s personal space, his nose close enough to brush the other’s. Killua is frozen stiff, leaning away from Gon’s determined, animated expression and aggressive anger that leaps from his form in waves. Killua blinks in a series of flutters, and while this close Gon traces each eyelash, each individual freckle painting the other’s face.

He resists the urge to reach out and brush his thumb over Killua’s cheekbone—

Then, Killua slaps his hand over Gon’s face and pushes him back, a vein popping in his forehead. Gon’s voice comes out muffled at this, blinking in confusion.

“You’re an _idiot_.” Killua releases him, and to Gon’s utter delight and amusement a fresh hue of scarlet has splashed Killua’s features like watercolor bleeding across paper.

Gon breaks out into a laugh, and he would never trade the moments that pass with Killua resisting the urge to smile back. But, once Killua finally does and breaks out into his own fit of genuine, echoing laughter, it causes Gon’s heart to leap in his chest and his mind to open up to another realm of curiosity. Another stream of thoughts he’d never believed could exist.

Killua’s laugh is reason enough for Gon to return each and every moment the Sun rests.

* * *

 

 

* * *

Gon is sixteen spans old when Commander Kurapika Kurta, armed with his trusty Cloudstrider bird, appears at his front door with a letter emblazoned with the Sun Kingdom’s sigil.

“We think you could be a valuable asset,” says the sky soldier. He’s lean and slender, with golden blond hair and startling scarlet eyes that only seem to glow brighter beneath the glare of the sun. He remains contemplative and focused as Gon twists and turns the folded parchment in his hands. “Let us know by Sun’s rest. We’ll be waiting.”

And with that, he is gone.

Gon stares down at the letter, for once unable to decipher the crossroads set before him.

He’d almost forgotten that pivotal moment when he was only twelve spans, tending to the injured little bird who was destined to become the mount of a Cloudstrider. He’d almost forgotten how encouraged and drawn he was to the idea of soaring through the skies with his Cloudstrider emblem, his sword propped at his hip and his desire to protect the Sun against outside forces prickling beneath his skin and setting his spirit and heart aflame with joy.

But, that was many spans ago, and that memory was stitched into his mind before he’d chosen to follow a boy with cerulean eyes and marble skin into a world of conjoined darkness and light.

Before Sun’s rest is upon the kingdom, Gon sits at the table with his aunt, carving his knife over the turngourd and examining the ripe cutting in the flesh.

“Alright, I’ve raised you for too long to not know when something’s bothering you.”

Gon blinks and turns to his aunt. He hesitates with the turngourd, his brow furrowing.

“I’m not sure I want to be a Cloudstrider,” he says, setting down the fruit on the table. His aunt tilts her head at this, assessing him with warm, cautious honey eyes.

“… This has been your dream for so long.”

Gon shrugs. “I…” He bites his tongue.

If he becomes a Cloudstrider, it would be impossible for him to ever find time to venture to the other side of the Wall. He wouldn’t be able to take foods from his home, carefully set aside to not deplete from his aunt’s own storage, and bring them to Killua and Alluka. He would never be able to join them at their own beaches and watch Alluka skip in the sand and water, or even examine the way Killua shows a rare smile under the light of the Moon.

The thought of never seeing Killua again does not sit right with Gon. Not at all.

“Gon, honey.” Mito tilts her head, a soft smile dressing her lips. “You don’t have to be a Cloudstrider. I would support you in any decision you make.” She sighs. “That being said… when were you going to tell me?”

Gon blinks and stares, a shudder spreading through him.

Mito weaves her fingers together. “You always leave when the Sun rests. And when you don’t, you’re so distracted. You’ve seemed so different for these last few spans, and even then, I don’t know what to do about it to help you.” She watches him, and the guilt that stabs Gon’s heart cannot possibly equal the hidden betrayal he reads in his aunt’s eyes. “Gon, I just want to protect you, and see your dreams come true in a place that’s safe. And if you… if you’re even thinking of crossing the Wall…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how you have done it, but I’ve seen you disappear. I’ve seen you vanish from the beaches.”

Gon looks down at the table, silent.

“And each time you come back.” Mito’s frown dissipates. “I trusted your judgment, wherever you were going. You never seemed to be in danger. But I should have asked you sooner. I shouldn’t have waited this long.” She shakes her head. “Gon, honey, please be honest with me. Where have… where have you been going?”

Gon reaches over and quickly grabs her hand, calloused fingers enclosing over hers. He’s so much stronger now, so much taller, and feeling his aunt’s relatively frail bones under his touch makes him wonder just how useful he could be as a Cloudstrider. As someone who could protect his aunt, rather than abandon her during Sun’s rest to see the boy and girl whom have changed the way he views his world.

When he finally does tell his Aunt Mito the story of first meeting the boy with pale, starving boy from the other side of the Wall, he expects her to be outraged. Angry. Uneven.

Yet, when she calmly places her hands over his cheeks and presses her forehead to his, he wonders just how long he’s kept a secret that should have been shared regardless.

She says nothing as the tears slide down her cheeks and fall into her lap. Gon remains there, whispering soothing words to her, desperate to calm her fears.

It’s the first time in four spans he hasn’t gone to see the Moon.

* * *

 

 

* * *

When Gon returns, he’s greeted with the flurry of sparks bursting in the black skies. The Moon is as present as ever, haunting and silent and strangely beautiful in its own right.

Gon scurries through the cobbles, pulling his hood back only slightly to savor the familiar sight of Killua—taller, leaner, stronger, _beautiful_ —leaning against one of the food stands to the village outcropping. He is smiling gently beside his sister. Alluka is up to his shoulders, her hair having grown so long and sweeping at her hips in lovely braided locks. She giggles next to her brother and tugs at his shirt, pointing up towards another blast of sparks in the night sky. Killua laughs beside her, placing his hands in his pockets, and when he bothers to look away from her for once, his breathtaking silver-blue eyes turn to rest on Gon.

Instantly, Killua quirks an eyebrow, smirks, and waves. Gon bites the inside of his cheek to prevent an all-consuming smile, keeping his features partially hidden to the other locals, their laughter and the consistent string of music billowing and gliding through the market. He’s never seen it this awake, this alive, and upon seeing Killua and Alluka out in the open for the first time in several spans, Gon knows that this is unusual for them, too.

“It’s the Lunar Festival,” says Alluka, her eyes bright and glistening like gemstones. “We never get to see it in the open, but my big brother says that it’s the one time we don’t have to worry!”

Gon holds back a frown at this, sending a questioning look towards Killua. The other male nods, communicating silently between them, and Gon receives the message clearly enough for him to ruffle Alluka’s hair and encourage her to dance on the beach with the other villagers.

Alluka turns to Killua, hopeful.

Killua’s lips purse, but the wide-eyed look from his sister is enough to turn his bones to mush.

“Okay. Fine. But, you have to come back after the fireworks ends. I don’t want you to be out there for too long without me at your side.”

Alluka glances between Gon and Killua, giggles, and _winks_ at her brother before sprinting off towards the beach. Killua sputters and glares, mumbling something under his breath.

Gon grins and leans close to his friend. “What was that about?”

Killua snorts, refusing to look at him. “You know her by now. Just being an annoying sister. I didn’t think she’d become a crazy demon at twelve spans old.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway.” He turns to Gon, hesitating. “Um. So. Yeah. We both… wanted to show you the Lunar Festival. It’s easily the best thing the Moon Kingdom offers.”

Gon glances up as another startling array of whimsical sparks paint the sky. He grins brightly, and turns to say something to Killua.

Immediately, his greeting whisks away into the endless dark of the Moon Kingdom.

Killua is staring up at the sky, watching the fireworks commence. Music dances around them in waves, torn between flutes and the trill of string instruments, balancing on the length of jasmine and wood. Rosewater stirs in the air, flagrant with traces of alcohol that both could enjoy if they wished to. Yet, Killua’s skin glistens in marbled ivory beneath the Moon’s light, his hair caught in a gust of wind so gentle and soft that it’s a wonder how it steals Gon’s breath straight out of his lungs.

When Gon had met Killua many spans ago, he knew he’d found someone special. Someone willing to give him the benefit of a doubt and allow him entry into a world where far more than just white stone necklaces and people with porcelain skin and faded gem eyes thrived and lived in smaller clusters.

The Moon Kingdom dwarfed in comparison to the Sun Kingdom, yet the tiny fragments of reality under the Moon shines brighter in Gon’s mind before he sleeps at Sun’s rest than anything else he’d considered before meeting the other boy.

Sweat gathers in Gon’s palms. His left hand struggles in his pocket, wrapping around the gift he’s kept close to him since leaving his home at Sun’s rest, since after kissing his aunt’s forehead as a tender goodbye and promise that he would return.

Gon nods his head to himself, tracing every gaunt line on Killua’s features, every chuckle that escapes him as he tells another story, every flutter of an eyelash that dances in the festive wind alongside sparks in the sky and white flowers lining the cobbled roads.

Gon holds his breath, pushing down the heaviness in his gut.

Killua has never looked more beautiful.

This is the time to ask.

“I have something for you,” says Gon.

Killua turns to him with a risen eyebrow. “Oi, I was just about to see the best part! This festival only happens once every five years, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “So, humor me, Gon, what is it this time?” 

Gon grins, dipping his head. “Hold out your hand.”

Killua straightens at this. “… Why?”

Gon breaks out into a laugh. “I’m not going to trick you!”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time.”

“You always trick me into games, Killua!”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m sneakier about it,” he says with a small, crooked grin. The expression is so feline, so mischievous, so undeniably _Killua_ that Gon’s anticipation races through the Moon Kingdom in a silent cry.

He takes Killua’s hand, opens his fingers, and places something small and smooth in the palm of his hand. Killua blushes at the contact, stiff at first, but watches in mild fascination as Gon slowly draws back his hand, and waits.

Killua blinks and inspects the gift on the palm of his hand.

“It’s…”

He tilts his head, running one finger over the smooth, carefully trimmed pebble hovering on his skin. It’s bright, scorching red, painted through with hues of bright orange and veins rippling in white currents, intertwined like the roots of trees that Gon has seen numerous times on this side of the Wall. The hole punctured in the top of the stone is leveled with a long, carefully woven thread.

“A rock,” Killua deadpans. Yet, despite his blank look, his jaw is desperately holding back a huge smile, and Gon knows he’s succeeded when he traces the familiar blush burning beneath Killua’s skin. Slowly, the white-haired teen lowers the stone, releasing a long, heavy sigh. “Thanks, Gon,” he whispers, turning to him with a certain warmth. “It’s like Alluka’s.”

“Yeah,” says Gon, grinning. “I wanted to make you something like Alluka’s, but with something from my home—”

“Wait.” Killua blinks. “You _made_ this? But, the rocks there are all square and ugly and nowhere near as smooth and nice as the ones here.” His brow furrows.

“Yep!” Gon chirps. “I spent a long time trying to carve it into a nice circle. I had to ask my aunt to help me with it. She was just glad that we could spend time together on something that wasn’t gardening or chores.” He laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re special to me, Killua.” He glances up at the sky, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s because of you that I get to see all of this, and experience it with my first and best friend—”

“Gon.”

Gon blinks, about to open his mouth to ask a question when he realizes that Killua has stepped closer to him. His heart leaps in his chest, and he is, once again, able to count each and every freckle that dots Killua’s nose.

“Stop talking,” he whispers.

Gon smirks. He feels the warmth, the tension drawing him to the other male like a tide of magnetism. He steps closer, just an inch taller than the other, slowly reaching up one hand and cupping his slender jaw.

Killua’s skin burns beneath his touch, his eyes searching, unsure.

Gon is the first to kiss him, chaste and gentle, slow and steady. Something electric and humming in luminescent coolness sparks and flutters inside Gon. He smiles into the contact, and slowly wraps his other arm around the other’s back and pulls him closer.

Killua pushes away from him, flustered, yet quiet. He studies Gon, assessing him as if he’s the most interesting thing he’s come across in far too long.

“We…” Killua shakes his head. “Gon, you know… the risks.” He shakes his head. “Why would you even want to try and—I mean, you’ve always been insane, but, how can you…?”

Gon frowns at this, eyes narrowing on the other’s lashes.

“If it’s really that much of a mystery as to why I would want you, Killua,” says Gon, smirking despite himself, “then I haven’t been as clear as I should have been.”

Killua sputters, rolling his eyes. “Idiot,” he mutters, but it’s fond. Tender.

Gon presses his forehead to Killua’s, overjoyed at recognizing the beating of Killua’s heart against his chest, traveling alongside his in unison. The music blurs around them in clouds, ceremonial petals tossed into the streets and fireworks explosive and glistening in the sky.

He knows he would give anything to have Killua remain in his world, under both the watchful light of the Sun and Moon.

He wonders if the Sun grieved when the Moon was torn away, hundreds and hundreds of spans ago, in times where the tale was barely old enough to be recorded properly.

The more Gon listens to Killua’s laugh, the more he wonders just how brokenhearted the Sun must have been to lose something so indescribably beautiful.

“Come with me,” says Gon, once the Moon has shifted and the festivities have died.

Killua is beside him, slightly blushed with rice wine and watching Gon with an exasperated smirk, but the fondness is still there, like a ghostly trace of emotions.

Alluka remains at Killua’s side, their arms linked as she picks up flower petals along the way.

“To where?” Killua asks.

Gon laughs at the slurred undertone in the other’s voice. “To my home. To the Sun.”

_I want us to have both. Your world and mine._

Killua snorts and laughs this off, claiming he’ll be killed. Executed. Gon promises to keep him safe, to keep him out of harm’s way, even though he knows Killua is more than capable of surviving long enough in their presence.

“Okay, then,” says Gon, smiling softly as he presses another kiss to Killua’s temple. “Someday, we’ll find a way to share our worlds. The three of us.”

Killua stiffens. “Gon, you know that’s not possible.”

“It will be.” Gon nods. “I promise.”

“Or swallow a thousand needles,” echoes Alluka, giggling. Gon smiles brightly at her and nods, nudging the girl’s older brother with a wink.

“We can make the impossible happen,” Gon whispers, tender and true.

Killua mulls this over, quiet for the remainder of their walk back to the small house shoved off into the alleys. He situates Alluka into bed, drawing the covers and listening to her mutter something secretly between them both. Killua rolls his eyes, yet whispers something in response and leaves without another word.

Gon waits outside the door, his hands fidgeting. Awkward.

“You don’t deserve to live like this. You never have.”

“We’ve been over this, Gon,” says Killua, sighing. “I don’t… understand how you can be so hopeful.” He bites his lip. “I mean… are you _sure_?”

Gon takes Killua’s hands, nodding vehemently.

“I’ve never been more sure. And when have I lied?” He tilts his head. “Killua, I want to make you happy. Even more happy than how you’ve made me. We can combine what we have.”

Killua regards him quietly for what seems like a full span, his irritation shoved aside in place of something else.

“Yeah, I knew I was in trouble when Alluka confirmed for me that I was in love with you.” Killua clicks his tongue, sheepishly scratching the back of his head and pointedly avoiding Gon’s bright, broad smile. “D-Don’t look at me like that! Sheesh.” He wipes his clammy hands on his trousers, though Gon is unable to hold back his laugh this time—so riddled with joy and bliss—as Killua regards him with an annoyed glare.

“Alluka’s observant and smart. Like you.” He chuckles.

Killua snorts. “Yeah. Yeah. I know that already.” He pauses, slowly folding his arms. “You really think that would be possible? You think you could possibly make it even legally allowed for Alluka and I to visit the Sun Kingdom without risking being killed?” He sighs. “Your word isn’t that powerful, Gon.”

“But it will be.” Gon nods. “I told you. The Cloudstriders—they have a lot of power in the Sun Kingdom. I’m friends with one of the head captain-commanders. I could make a change. I don’t know how long it takes.” He comes closer to Killua. “But it _can change_.”

Killua flushes at the proximity, though he seems to be considering Gon’s words.

“The Sun and Moon were never meant to separate, Killua,” says Gon, treading tenderly on a whisper. “If they were, how could the Sun have ever allowed me to meet you?”

Killua scoffs at this. Then, before Gon can say anything else, Killua kisses him, this time with more fervency. More energy. More recklessness. Gon responds eagerly, testing the waters with his hands sloping along Killua’s sides and groaning at the other male burrowing his fingers into his own dark hair.

When he pulls away, Killua’s flushed face and wild eyes are enough to make Gon to want to kiss him again, to delight in his presence all the more.

“Fine. Then prove it to me.” Killua smirks. “I’ll even race you to the answer. Find a way to make it possible. For you. Me. Alluka. Before I do.”

 The challenge that sparks his expression is enough to ignite the challenging fires in Gon’s own stomach.

“I’ll beat you,” says Gon huskily. “And when I win, when we’re older, when I’m a Cloudstrider and you and Alluka are safe under the Sun, you’ll marry me.”

Killua blinks at this declaration. “Gon—”

“Deal?”

Killua’s brow furrows, though the twitching smirk is enough to tell Gon that he’s not sure if the man from the Sun Kingdom is being entirely serious or not.

But Gon has always been a type of person to know exactly what he wants, and his opinion hardly ever falters. Perhaps he’d known he would be with Killua until the end of time when he first met him, when both were still twelve spans old, meeting by chance by way of a stolen necklace not meant to be on Sun-browned sand.

“You’re crazy.” Killua sighs, raising an eyebrow with a challenging tilt to his head. “Fine. You’re on.” He wags his finger in the air. “Those are some pretty big stakes, though. You better know what you’re messing with. You’re talking about rewriting history, here.”

 _It’s worth it_.

Gon grabs Killua’s shirt and pulls him into another kiss.

“Just so you know, Killua,” whispers Gon, slowly reaching over and taking the shining, orange and red stone now proudly dangling from Killua’s neck. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing with life, and brimming with energy that only and Killua could understand. “When you come into the Sun Kingdom wearing this stone, people will already think we’re engaged.”

Killua only responds with an eye-roll and a punch to the shoulder.

Gon laughs, the sound too bright and lustrous in this world of darkness and the single beacon of hope and light from the Moon.

 _The Sun and Moon were never meant to be apart_.

He believes this with every fiber of his being. And the more he stays by Killua’s side, the more he relishes in the other’s touch, in his laughter and oneness with the world where he comes from and the heart he presents in own porcelain hands, Gon knows he could never love anything more.

No matter the cause, his world would be with Killua’s.

He wonders, with each time he holds Killua close, if the Sun would be willing to take a risk for the Moon as much as Gon has for the boy he’s fallen in love with.


End file.
